


Remember Me?

by markofcainonmyass



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-07 22:12:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4279821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markofcainonmyass/pseuds/markofcainonmyass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is the one she loves.<br/>Sam Winchester is the one she must kill.<br/>Crowley is the one who she must obey.<br/>Castiel is the only one she can trust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

One

 

He was putty in my hands. The way he leant in closer when I talked or how his fingers seemed to flex when my leg brushed against his. I had him just where I wanted him. Vulnerable. Finally, after two weeks, he had decided to have sex with me. I knew he was somewhat religious but this was just ridiculous. My boss was going to hate me for taking so long. But, if I explained the situation to poor 'ol Dylan, he would most likely understand. I wanted his heart, literally. It was just the price he had to pay for having hope that we could be anything _but_ friends-with-benefits. Also because he was number 3 on my list of those who needed to go. 

"It's so nice to see you! Thanks for stopping by." He swings his apartment door wider and I step in with a coy smile. My heels clink against his hardwood floor as I tread to his kitchen. I've been here more than enough times. 

"No problem, Dylan. Are you sure?"

His brows crinkle, creating deep lines in his forehead. "Sure about what?"

I purse my lips and look around the room. There are clean dishes out on the counter drying from just being rinsed. One of the cabinets is chipped by the edge and discolored. There's ugly stains on the ceiling. The granite doesn't match. How could he think he deserved me?!

"Oh! What we discussed last night? About our physical connection..." His eyes find mine once more as if asking for confirmation. I tap my fingernails on the granite, using my tongue to swipe along my bottom lip. "Of course I'm sure. You're the first woman I've felt something with in...in a long time." He comes forward so his left hand covers mine. I force a smile up at him. This is the worst part. The awkward couple minutes before we start making sweet passionate sex. 

"Well, shall we get to it?" 

"Did you want a drink first?" he offers. My eyebrows raise and he walks to the discolored cabinet to pull out a wine glass. Dylan shakes it lightly at me and I hold up a hand. I respectfully decline and he shrugs, opening the fridge to grab an already open bottle of his best wine - from last night - and pours himself some. I roll my eyes while he's busy and shrug off my coat, simply letting it fall to the floor. The sharp sound my zipper makes as it hits the tile causes Dylan to look over his shoulder in silent shock. His eyes go wide at my slim-fitting black dress. 

I look stunning. I've made sure of it. Somehow, tonight's just not my night. 

I know Dylan's nervous. His hand is shaking as he sips from his glass. But honestly, I've been in this run down town for seven days too long. Crowley just didn't know about his clients well enough to know this would happen. Silently, I cuss him out. 

"Dylan, baby. You'll feel so much better after this happens. Trust me." My voice is sultry. Dylan's throat bobs as he swallows the last of his wine. We're chest to chest now and it takes all my strength to run my fingers down his chest. I will admit, he's well built. Too bad he's got nothing going for him. Dylan seems to consider what I've just said and I think I've got him. He parts his mouth as I move up, but then he shakes his head, effectively shaking me off as well. I huff as he leans for some more wine. 

"I think I need more wine, first."

"Well-" I grit my teeth in order to keep from snapping. He watches me over his glass. "I don't want you to be drunk. I'll feel like I'm taking advantage." I force another smile. This comment does nothing to shake him. He refuses to move from his corner and finishes off his wine much faster than the first time. I wait five minutes, until he's done with the full bottle. I sigh to myself. He's done. Good. We can get this over with. Only, he heads back to the fridge for more. 

Again, I refrain from screaming. I lock my jaw and find the clock on the wall. 11:12. Screw it. I have to be on the road back to Kansas in an hour. My eyes fall to Dylan again, who's pouring yet another glass of wine. He doesn't see me as I clumsily move around him to the knife rack on the other side of the sink. My classier ways of suffocating him to death have now been cut out of the plan. Time for plan B. 

My fingertips glide effortlessly over the handles of each knife, waiting until Dylan notices me. The best part about killing someone is seeing the fear in their eyes. Hearing them beg for forgiveness, beg for mercy; to hear them try and convince you that you're better than that. 

I grip the largest handle and pull it from it's cage nice and slow. I adjust to the weight and then lean forward to tap on Dylan's shoulder. He spins, luckily without his glass. "I'm sorry-" he starts. I don't listen. I can't. I'm late already. 

"Yeah, me too." 

I launch at him, knife successfully digging into his chest as far as it could go. His blue/grey eyes go wide and his mouth forms a round circle. In a second, I pull the blade out and let him chunk to the floor. His hands press lazily against the bleeding hole in his body. Dylan doesn't say a word - probably because he can't. But his eyes say it all. I shrug and toss the knife into the sink. 

"You signed up for it. You sold your soul ten years ago. Eventually, you'd die. Didn't they tell you that?"

He doesn't say anything and I smirk. 

"You could've died more pleasantly. Could've died with the after-sex bliss. But you chose freaking wine over me. _Wine_!" I cluck my tongue and stare down at him. He still has that foreboding, sad look on his face. Like I've betrayed him. I roll my eyes and let out a humorless laugh. "I never liked you. In fact, I should've killed you the first night you let me over. It would've been so much less painless for both of us."

Dylan's eyelids flutter close finally, his hands go limp, the last breath of air leaving his lungs. I kick his side just to make sure. 

"Wine." I roll my eyes again, scoop lower to retrieve my jacket, and let myself out. 

 

+++

 

I bust through the doors where my boss was staying. The demons standing guard stepped in front of me. Which really pissed me off because I just drove two hours for this. And they know me. Very well. I cast a long bitch face towards Stanley - the guard to my right. 

"Please step out of my way."

"Oh, you think Crowley wants to talk to you right now?"

I lift an eyebrow. "I am his favorite pet."

Stanley and Mike share glances and scoff at each other. I feel like they're keeping something from me. 

"What?" I snap. Stanley looked back down at me with a sarcastic smile. "What?!" I demand. 

"It's the Winchesters." My blood cools at the name. Those hunters are the ones I blame for my parents' death. I blame them for making me desperate and weak. What turned me into this...a killing machine. I bite my lip harshly and jut my chin out. 

"What about them?"

"They're here. With Crowley."

I curse and Stanley snickers. My fists ball and I stomp angrily. Crowley is a hypocrite! He warns us - all of us - about them. How they won't so much as blink before killing us. And while I may not be a demon, I am under Crowley's control. So I may as well be dead to them. "Why?"

"How should we know?" Mike chimes in. I glare at him. "You're right. You're nothing but guard dogs. Get out of my way. I'll speak to the King myself!"

"Calm down, sister." Stanley grips my arm to keep me in front of him. My jaw clenches and I glare murderously at him. "Exorcizamus te..." I start. They flinch and back off. I smirk at them and push through the double doors that they guard.

True as their words, two tall men have their backs to me, Crowley in his high chair with a rather amused smirk on his face. When he notices my entrance, his smirk falls. The Winchester brothers turn to me. The taller one - Sam, if I recall - remembers me and looks rather curious. 

"Tina-?" Crowley asks. I stop him midsentence, "Dylan's dead. You're welcome. I thought we had an appointment."

"We do..."

"Whatever, Crowley. Call me when you aren't talking to your boy toys."

I turn and don't wait for his response. 


	2. Two

Two

 

I wait impatiently leaning against the wall right outside Crowley's room. The two demons who had previously been guarding the entrance scampered as soon as they saw my brooding expression. They should know not to mess with me when I'm like this, when I'm pissed at Crowley. Which hardly happens. Crowley - the king of Hell - and I have an almost perfect friendly relationship. We both understood each other and did our best to please the other. Lately, we get on each other's nerves a lot. It's because he's been hanging out with the Winchester boys. The ones who killed my parents. 

All those years ago, after I had sold my soul to Crowley to save them from a horrible disease, and Dean and Sam show up guns blazing, knocking them to the ground a day after meeting them. Of course, they explained everything afterwards. They were monsters of some sort and needed to be stopped. I don't know why but I had trusted them then and, having nowhere to go, traveled with them across the country saving people. And then I met Crowley for the second time, and things changed. Now I work for the King. 

The click of the door handle startles me away from the wall, turning my wide blue eyes up to the first person who walks across the door frame. It's Dean. Seeing him made my stomach clench into tight knots. He looked beautiful, as he always did. Older. Fuller. I quickly blink away to Sam, soon followed by Crowley. I glare at him but he only ignores me. 

"Tina, do you mind letting the boys out?"

Instinctively I cough. He can't be serious. He knows as well as they do that I can't stand the mere sight of them. It's a surprise I haven't ripped their throats out already! I go to retaliate but Crowley gives me his best 'do what I say or else' look. I sigh dramatically and look up at the brothers. They're both at least a foot taller than me, rendering me to cock my neck fully back to glare successfully at them. 

"Right this way." I hiss under my breath. I send another chilling look to Crowley, who's face remains impassive. I trudge away from his room and towards the exit. It's about two minutes through the winding hallways of this abandoned building. The ceiling is cracked and somewhere distant, is the trickle of water. We pass by the guards from earlier, who bow their heads as to not make eye contact. I smirk as we turn away from them. 

Dean unfortunately notices the way the demons reacted. 

"You're quite high and mighty here, aren't ya?"

I swallow hard and shrug. "I hold a certain power, yes."

"To what extent does this 'power' go?"

I pause near the last door. You can already see bright light drafting through the bottom slit. Which is weird, since it was night only an hour and a half ago. I turn my eyes up to Dean. Again, my body seems to light on fire. Usually I'd be frantically trying to stomp it out - I shouldn't be feeling this way about my enemy - but for this moment, I will let it lick my insides, my heart, my mind, until I'm nothing but a crisp. "Well, if any of the demons bother me in any way, they'll be punished. Courtesy of Crowley."

"Why would he protect you?" Sam steps in. Back on the road with them, Sam was like a big brother to me. He always offered a helping hand and never thought twice before having to risk his life for me. 

"I'm like the demon he never had. The demon without the black eyes," I pull a painful smile and glance at the ground. "It's easier to do the dirty work - claiming people's souls and all that - when you're not actually one of the demons. It makes it better around hunters and such. Nobody suspects a thing."

"And what do you get in return for all this? Besides protection from demons?" 

I feel the intensity rise. The way they were looking at me, with that red hot obvious concern that creeps up whenever we speak. This is the most I've said so far to them. And I don't need to be reminded why I've joined Crowley's forces. I clear my throat and grab the door handle, swinging it wide enough to cast them in the luscious morning light, and me further into the shadows. Dean and I lock gazes again and I relish in the way his gaze still makes me feel. Who knows how long I'll have to see them after this.

"Nothing. Now go."

"So you're his bitch, basically." Dean laughs humorlessly and I bite the inside of my cheek. If only he knew...

"No. I do it for me. Now leave."

Dean throws his hands up defensively and Sam shuffles out. I watch them walk to the shiny black Impala that they so dearly love. As both of them open the doors at the same time, I let the door of Crowley's place close slowly until the light is blocked out once again. 

 

+++

 

"Crowley what the hell were you thinking?!"

The door slams shut abruptly. Crowley glances up from a contract he's holding. At seeing me, the corner of his lips twitch up and he looks back down. "What are you talking about?" 

"Bringing the Winchesters here? Poor mistake on your part."

"What? You weren't going to kill them, right? You've known those boys far too long and made too many promises with them to do anything but stare star-gazed."

He looks up again and my eyes narrow. I want to say that he's wrong, I'd kill them in an instant, but he's right. While on the road with them, we'd always used to say that no matter what, none of us would hurt the other. Even if we were possessed by something, we'd fight long and hard before we'd do anything to hurt each other. And one thing everyone knows about me, I don't break promises. 

"Now, if you really want to prove your worth to me, and finally finish you debt," He gives me a pointed look. I nod furiously and bite down on my tongue to keep from speaking out. "Then you'll kill Sam Winchester."

"What!"

My voice echoes around the room. Crowley doesn't budge. He watches me with trained eyes, his fingers still holding the forgotten contract against his lap. I can see he's had a bad day, but I wasn't in the mood to fish him a girl he could use. Especially after what he just proposed. 

"You heard me. Sam is getting in the way, and well, I have a very powerful friend that needs his body."

"So why can't you just kidnap him, burn the tattoo off, and use the rest?"

"Because my friend needs a _dead_ body."

I didn't understand what he meant. I wasn't going to speak out. There was no use arguing with Crowley. He's ordered me to do something and I must obey in order to stay alive. He stares long and hard at me, watching my reaction. Crowley's smart enough to know that I have no understanding of why he wants Sam to die - it's not my place to know anyway - but he assures me nonetheless, "If you do do this, you're off the hook. Live off the rest of your days demon and monster-free. If you don't do this, you have twenty more years with me." He grins sarcastically. I roll my eyes and cross my arms. 

My heart stings as I open my mouth to ask the question I do every time I'm assigned to kill someone:

"How do you want it done?"


	3. Chapter 3

Three

 

I was back in some crappy motel. Approximately five doors down, Dean and Sam Winchester were probably sleeping. I didn't know where they were headed, or if they would stay here and hunt some, but all I knew was that I needed to get Sammy alone. I wanted this job to be quick and as painless as possible. There was no need for either of them to know I was here until it was too late for the younger brother. Dean wouldn't be able to suspect a thing, Crowley would have what (or who) he needed, and I would be free from his control. Sounded like a pretty damn good plan if you asked me. 

I let out a long exaggerated sigh and lean back against the headboard. My hands find the TV remote, blindly clicking the power button and watching the black box flick on. It was some black and white channel, playing a hopeless romantic love story. The main characters clung to each other. Rapidly assuring that they would be together forever. I was overwhelmed by a memory, when I was still with the boys:

 

_"You do know that I will take care of you. There's no reason to be afraid."_

_"Yes, I know that Dean. It's just-"_

_"I've got you. Don't worry. I'm here."_

 

There's a knock on the door that makes me jump, knocking the remote to the floor with a bump of my knee, the channel changing to an action movie. Slowly, I move from the bed. Nobody knows I'm here. Not even Crowley knows where I am. I could've left the country for all he knows. It has to be room service, even though I didn't make a call. 

My heart rate increases as my hand touches the door knob. What if they know I'm here? What if they recognized my car and asked the hotel manager downstairs about where I was staying? They know everything about me - all the names I use when checking in to hotels, my FBI names, etc - it wouldn't be a surprise if they were behind the door. 

Deciding to take the risk, I pull it open. It wasn't room service. And it certainly wasn't the Winchester brothers. 

"Drake?" The strong man pushes me aside easily, stepping into my room without so much as a word. I frown and kick the door closed. Drake is a demon - one of the few that didn't take orders from Crowley. We had met about three months ago when I was in California. He was partying with some blonde chick, the one I was supposed to kill. We somehow ended up getting to know each other quite well, eventually ending up in bed, and for three weeks I lost contact with Crowley. 

"I thought you'd get something a little more classier." Drake coos, spinning and squatting on the mattress. I roll my eyes and cross my arms. 

"What are you doing here?"

He smirks up at me. "What do you think?"

"Don't give me that crap, D. We haven't talked in three months. You ditched me, and now you think you can show up here and I'll forget about all my responsibilities and come running back to you? If so, get out." 

Drake purses his lips in consideration. I watch him glance around the room again. There's a silent judgement passing through his dark eyes. I take this second to admire him. He had a strong jawline, one that could cut glass, and his torso was full and taunt with delicious muscles. His black hair was spiked back how it always is, and arms a bit thicker. I swallow hard and manage to look away before he could notice I was staring. 

"How'd you even know I was here?"

"You drive in an ugly little _purple_ Chevy. You don't think that's noticeable?" 

I frown again. "Whatever. What do you want?"

"What, I can't come by and say hello?" 

I glare at him and he chuckles at my stubborn behavior. He stands and hovers above me a good foot. I don't move a muscle. He's too close and he smells too good. "The Winchester brothers are here," I bite my lip. That's why he needs me. He must need my help to distract them, or kill them. Which mean Drake is probably working with more demons. "Yes, I know they are." He tilts his head. "Then you'll do me a favor and get them off our asses."

"'Our'?"

Drake's lips fall and I finally smirk in victory. He doesn't say anything else, though, and instead walks to the door. "You will do this for me."

"Oh really? Why's that?"

This time his lips do quirk up in that hostile smirk I used to love. I wait cautiously. He's been thinking up of something to use against me. I quickly run through all of our time together, remembering no promises I made to him, and no favors he deserved. I relaxed slightly. 

"I know you can't kill Sam Winchester. So I'll do it for you, ship his body to Crowley, and you can be out of the country in no time."

My eyes widen and my arms fall. "How do you know I have to-"

"Only if," he interrupts. My jaw falls slack. "If you distract the two of them for the next two weeks. Can you do that?"

I sigh shakily, looking around my room, noticing the yellow stains dripping down the walls, my suitcase open and dripping with clothes, the TV still on. We both know I couldn't kill Sam. So what's the big deal? I nod slowly. "Yes."

He knocks the door with a shit-eating grin. "Good. I'll stay in contact. It's so good to see you again, Tina."

 

++++

 

Damn I can't believe I'm doing this. This is going against every one of my instincts. Do not get close to the person you are trying to kill. That's like, rule number one. Considering the fact that I've already had a pass with these people, was enough to already be breaking that rule. But I can't help myself. I want to be untied from Crowley - and not doing the dirty work myself was actually a positive thing. 

My knees wobble as I lean against the pool table. I wasn't the only girl here, but I was the only one that wasn't leaning on a guy. 

"Can I join?" 

My voice cuts through all conversation, gaining the attention of everyone around the pool table. A couple bearded men glare at me, envious women too. The Winchester brothers stare at me with dropped jaws. I smile coyly at the two, before waving them away and directing my gaze to the man at the head of the table, two women on either side of him. 

"Well? Can I?"

He scoffs under his breath and looks around the table. From my peripheral vision, I could see a couple heads nodding, but the Winchesters don't move an inch. The man finally looks back to me, nodding once. "What's your name?"

"I'll give that to you, if you win." I wink and walk around him for a cue stick. I hear a low whistle as I do the honors in breaking the rack. The balls fly everywhere and I turn a smug expression to the older guy when they all settle. "After you."

 

++++

 

I won. Like always. Everyone seemed shocked, except the two large brothers standing in the dark corner. They had watched my every move, obviously suspicious about me being here, after I told them why I was with Crowley. The older man who I was playing against scoffed some more, rubbing his chin in disbelief. "Never seen a girl play like that." he mutters. I shrug. "I'll take that as a compliment."

I step away from the table and surprisingly go to the bar without a glance back. Somehow, I knew they'd end up following me. I ordered the house special, whatever it was, and waited by chatting aimlessly with the bartender. 

Twenty minutes later, they plopped down in the empty bar stools, either side of me. I smile lowly and push away my drink. 

"Hello boys."

"You sound just like him." Dean spits. The venom in his voice is sharp and sends hurt through me like thunder. I swallow uneasily and force a smile. 

There's a silent beat with just us, a foot apart, breathes mingling. He smelt like whiskey - like always - and he was clean shaven. His hair was rumpled and clothes a little disfigured. I didn't bother complimenting him. I'll keep my opinions to myself. 

"Why are you here?" Sam's voice comes back to me and I turn to him. His brows are hung low over his eyes in concern, wrinkles across his forehead. He looked so much like the Sammy I looked up to. He hadn't changed. My big brother. I clear my throat and tap my fingers against the bar. 

I think about what I should say. If I should keep out the fact that I know they're here for whatever Drake and his followers are doing, or if I should just lie. I go with the latter, because that's the kind of person I've been turned in to. "I wanted a drink and some fun."

"So you're not following us?" Dean piques in, his voice strained with desperation. I threw my head back and laughed humorlessly. "As if, Winchester. It was coincidence we ended up at the same bar. I'm guessing you guys are here for a case?"

They look between each other. "No." Dean says immediately. I roll my eyes and drop down from my chair. 

" _Right_ ," I say, glancing up at him. His green eyes glitter in the bar's dimmed lights. I shrug. "I can tell when you lie, remember?"

Dean doesn't look away. In fact, he watches as I move around the people standing between me and the exit of this place. 


End file.
